


in smoke and duty, a cage.

by gatheredfates (seafaringheart)



Series: Prompt Collections [4]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Drabble, Mild Gore, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:55:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27870381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seafaringheart/pseuds/gatheredfates
Summary: Not quite living and yet not free.a one-shot created from the ask prompt 'a darker shade of magic / a gathering of shadows' for lilian voss.
Series: Prompt Collections [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1803685





	in smoke and duty, a cage.

**Author's Note:**

> What's this? A change of pace from my other prompt collections? You bet. Anyway, much like my Tess prompts, I'm archiving this prompt here for preservation's sake!
> 
> ❛The thing about freedom? It doesn’t come naturally. Almost no one has it handed to them. I’m free because I fought for it.❜ (SYLVANAS to LILIAN)

The scent of burning meat had long since withered down to **CHARCOAL,** the _husks_ upon the funeral pyre staring listlessly with slack-jaw screams and hollow eyes. Their cries had ebbed around midnight, the light pouring in from the closed windows more a **NUISANCE** than a _warning_ — one easily **DULLED** by the draw of a curtain. _Plague-ridden,_ the clergy claimed, and despite how much they screamed they were cast onto the holy fire to **BURN.**

Carrion birds were chased by crusader children who clustered in the cathedral gardens, far warmer than the adults who dare not draw close to the _smoldering_ fire, and above them the first flecks of snow poured from heavens coloured in greyscale. Lilian kept her gaze forward as ice settled in her hair and frigid air **BURNED** her lungs, and she did not move.

A hand placed itself upon her shoulder, the familiar crimson of authority. ❝How far can you **GO,** my daughter?❞ The voice asked her, ❝What are you _willing_ to give?❞

Lilian stared dutifully ahead, even as Benedictus’ hold pricked **BLOOD** to her skin.

❝Everything.❞

YOU ARE A _WEAPON._ YOU DO NOT **WEEP.**

Eye to eye with the Banshee Queen felt like a recollection — a performative act _pantomiming_ the same dark reminder that she, Lilian Voss, would **NEVER** be free. Neither alive nor a body on the pyre, she existed in the prison of the in-between; an undead existence in servitude to the forces she pledged herself against in life. Though there were no children to laugh at the _absurdity_ of her second act, her mind’s cruel **JEER** seemed entertained.

❝I understand,❞ she answered, not because she agreed, but she did not have the freedom to deny her. It was the same _rehearsed_ lines — speak when spoken to, do not cause trouble, do not defy the ~~Crusade~~ Forsaken. 

Ironic that, among **EVERYTHING** else, that did not change.


End file.
